I said to him...

"Do you really think this is going to get you anywhere?" He replied:
"It isn't the point whether I get anywhere."
"Then what is the point?"
"The point is that I return."
I cannot say I was enlightened. In fact, I was rather disappointed, and I hit him on the chin, first saying: "Half the time, I don't think she knows who she is."
"What do you mean?" he said, and then "Ow."
"Only what I say," I said, and then "Don't be such a wimp." And I hit him again, harder.

It was some time in the next week that I saw him again. This time he was wearing what seemed to be a taffeta dress. I hadn't seen him in it before and complimented him on his taste, being careful to say it in a way that suggested no innuendo.
"Is the plural of innuendo 'innuendi'," he said, apparently reading my mind.
"I don't know," I said, for I didn't. I have since looked it up and found it is not.
"I think it probably is. I wonder if you make many innuendi you could be said to be pluralistic."
I didn't know what he meant by this, so I hit him again. He fell to the floor, his capacious dress billowing about him.

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